


brother, you will return

by cel10e



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5728510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cel10e/pseuds/cel10e
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are <i>good</i>,” he stressed. “For me, that’s enough.”</p>
<p>“You know, I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say."</p>
            </blockquote>





	brother, you will return

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! This is a thing! So ... I catapulted headfirst into the Dragon Age fandom about six months ago, and managed to get myself wrapped up in a massive DA:O AU, which I'm ..... writing, slowly. This bit is an excerpt from around Haven, highlighting probably my favorite relationship in the fic. Title is from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjzBRxOPF0E).

Damien found Alistair, eventually, standing at the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley. The damp Fereldan autumn was slowly giving way to a bitter winter, and a heavy, wet snow was falling.

Damien's boots crunched in the frost as he approached, and Alistair spoke without turning. “What if we don't win?” he asked. “What if we can't save -- all of this?” Alistair gestured to the valley below them, barren trees and ground covered with a clean layer of fresh snow. There was a peace in the stillness, the purity of the snowy morning that could almost mask the Blight looming over their heads.

“I mean --” Alistair turned to face Damien as he stepped forward to stand beside him, and the naked, exhausted desperation in Alistair’s face and voice lodged a deep ache in Damien's throat. “What if we're not enough?” His voice broke on the last word, and Alistair turned away again, watching the snow settle over the ground.

What if -- what if -- what if -- they were the thoughts everyone was thinking, how three Grey Wardens and a motley handful of allies were to settle a civil war and a Blight when all the odds seemed against them. They were young, painfully young and scared, fresh-eyed recruits with a fistful of ancient documents, daring to claim authority over armies and nations. If the fate of Ferelden was hanging in a fragile balance, so too were they all.

“I can’t --” Alistair let out a short breath. “I can’t be king. Sure, I can swing my sword around and pretend I’m doing some good in this world but I’m no leader, I’m certainly no ruler --”

Damien hummed, discontent, but found nothing to say. Alistair continued, words tumbling over each other as thoughts months in the making spilled out. “Look at us. A bunch of kids running around playing make-believe. There were dozens of Grey Wardens and now we’re outlaws, running around with apostates and -- and assassins and, pretending we can hold our own with the adults -- I mean, what if Arl Eamon --?” He paused for breath, folding his arms tighter over his chest. “Who’s going to listen to some backwater oaf over the queen and regent-commander? At best I’m a fool, at worst a usurper, and without the happy accident of my birth I’m nobody at all, just some -- pawn on a chessboard that nobody’s bothered to knock off yet. I should’ve -- should’ve just died with all the others.”

“No.” Damien’s voice was quiet, but firm. They stood in silence for a few moments, the challenge hanging in the air, until Damien spoke again.

“You matter,” he stated, simply. Alistair huffed, drawing a shaky breath, but said nothing further. “You’re my friend,” Damien added. “I’m not -- good at any of this, traveling, and. Fighting, and _talking_ , so much, but --” He shrugged. “We’re a team, so I don’t have to be. Right? So -- you can fight. You can keep us all together in a battle, and you always find the best places to camp. You see one cloud in the sky and know if it means rain or snow or a sunny day tomorrow. You’re kind and clever and funny, even if I don’t understand your jokes. That’s not nothing.” Damien paused again, shaping his next words carefully. “I don’t think -- you should have to change who you are. You are _good_ ,” he stressed. “For me, that’s enough.” Damien glanced at Alistair’s face as he finished, watching for a reaction, any sign that he was even hearing Damien’s words.

“You know, I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say,” Alistair said abruptly, after a bit. Damien smiled, ducking his head, and the moment was gone.

The wind whistled through the barren trees around them, having steadily picked up as they were standing there. The sun was climbing higher and higher over the valley, a hazy light filtering through the clouds, throwing dappled shadows over the ground. The snow had stopped falling, for the moment, though there was no doubt it would return as their journey took them ever higher into the mountains.

“Come on.” Alistair clapped a hand to Damien’s shoulder, stepping reluctantly away from the cliff. “We should head back before Caitlin starts organizing search parties.”

“Maker forbid,” Damien muttered. The two Wardens turned their backs on the valley, thoughts turning forward to the prospect of a new day.


End file.
